“All the trees are coming!” He lowered his voice. “I is going to be at the front for the biggest one.”

Konstantin looked at him. “How are you going to carry that?”

“My daddy will. He’s ’normous, ” said Ash of his pleasantly tall but in no way enormous father. “I will sit on it till he is here.”

“That’s a brilliant plan,” said Konstantin.

Ash narrowed his eyes as the ferry started to chug in reverse. “Don’t take the biggest one.”

“I won’t take the biggest one,” said Konstantin. Ash held his gaze meaningfully as Konstantin turned back to Isla, smiling.

“Do you normally take the biggest one?” said Isla.

He smiled ruefully. Konstantin always took the biggest one. “Well . . .”

More and more people gathered as a huge pile of Christmas trees started to be unloaded onto the dock. People were trying to look unconcerned about it, and not be casting too beady an eye, while all mentally planning exactly which one they wanted. There was a beauty at the top.

“Where are these from?” said Konstantin to the cargo loader who was ticking things off his inventory.

“Came out of Bergen last night, ken,” said the man, and Konstantin briefly wondered why the man thought his name was Ken, but still, there was something about seeing the beautiful trees, their dark green needles already tumbling out onto the dock, that made him even more homesick than usual.

“Okay,” he said, staring sadly.

Flora had arrived—Fintan was still in bed—and made straight for the dispatcher. “I’m going to need the ten-footer for the Rock.”

“I wanted that!” said old Mrs. MacGregor, who didn’t see quite as well as she once did.

“But you live in the mill cottage,” said Flora as gently as she was able. “There isn’t space.”

“I can chop it up and have it twice,” said the old lady mutinously.

“I have a lovely five-foot tree for you,” said the dispatcher smoothly. “Don’t worry about it.”

More and more people were arriving on the docks now, picking up their beautiful trees with cries and shouts; a tractor was called into service by Hamish, who loaded up the farmhouse’s six-footer with a huge grin all over his face. Flora had harbored hopes of decorating it before Agot got home from school and put her special stamp on it, but didn’t hold out much hope for that happening.

KONSTANTIN WATCHED SADLY.

The palace at Christmastime was ridiculously overdone. Partly it was because they had so many visitors, some paying, some local schoolchildren. Grand companies held their Christmas parties there, so his father pointed out it made sense economically. But deep down Konstantin knew it was because he loved it, because his mother had loved it so much.

Trees four meters high lined the huge, ornate staircase at the main entrance to the palace, with heavy green ivy wreaths wound up the delicate filigree banisters on both sides. Similar heavy wreaths were pinned perfectly along the walls, and the trees were lined with both artificial lights and real candles, lit up only on Christmas Eve eve, when just the family gathered round to exchange early gifts and eat lutefisk in preparation for Christmas Day itself, the main event.